The more you take, the more you leave behind
by charlibubble
Summary: Entry to the April challenge at CSIFO - an Easter egg hunt - GSR all the way! enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**My entry into the April Challenge at CSIFO:**

**An Easter Egg Hunt - but NO, hang on, it's not that easy! I'm talking about Easter Eggs like you find in a computer or digital file! Let's celebrate computer glitches while Wetpaint is experiencing one of its own! No limit to the length of the story - one shot or multi-chapter - focused on GSR of course!**

**taking a bit of a liberty and using a mix of Easter eggs not just computer ones! should be approx 8/9 chapters if all goes to plan and I don't waffle too much!**  
**Kinda trying out something a little different here! hope y'all enjoy it! Kudo's to the lovely, wonderful and a little bonkers Otie1983 who okayed this as a starting point for me and hashed out the right puzzle :) thank you m'dear. so... I look forward to seeing what you think!**

**Charli xx**

* * *

The room is cold and dark as I hear the sound of a creaking rocking chair in the corner. I am assaulted by recognition, this isn't just a dream it's also a memory. It's all so familiar to me, the sunlight trying desperately to filter some light into the interior through the thick blinds, designed not so much to keep the light from getting in as to stop the prying eyes that inevitably glanced inside with some kind of morbid curiosity when the shouting started. For now all was calm but that uneasy feeling that followed me through childhood was still present as I crept towards the sounds of my father's voice.

Why I am seeking him out I don't know. The level headed in control Sara I now was should know better than to go towards that voice, I should be running, as fast as my legs could carry me away from this house, from the sounds, the smells, the heartache and the sorrow it represented, but I didn't something pulled me towards him, something made me cast my eyes over him seated on his chair like he did so many times in my tormented dreams.

"There's my cookie!" he smiled to nothing but a shadow in the doorway beside him "come sit with your old dad, I got a new riddle for you!"

I want to call out to the shadow, to tell her not to fall for the gentle tone of his voice or the almost comforting happiness in my mother's voice as she sang in the kitchen. I want to tell her to stay there in the shadows, to find her solace in her books and not submit to the illusion of a happy family they were creating in front of my eyes but I couldn't do it. My words evaporated on my lips like ice in the dessert and I could only watch as the shadow became an image of myself I had forgotten long ago.

"I'll still beat you daddy" she sings as she skips gaily towards him seated in the corner. Her dark curls bounced around her back as she climbed onto his lap and smiled up at him with wide innocent eyes full of enthusiasm and curiosity. I wonder briefly what happened to that expression, the love and trust so easily read in the sparkling eyes of my younger self.

There was only one man in the world that warranted such an expression from me now.

"What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?"

He sits back satisfied with his riddle as he watches her narrow her eyes and purse her lips as though that would help her brain focus. The answer dawned on her quickly, a bright smile crossing her features as she looked up at him with a defiant eye roll.

"That's easy" she declared "it's a river!"

His hand closes in around the dark curls and ruffles the playfully, I flinch in spite of myself the memories of the darker times his hand closed in on me warping even my happy memories.

"That's my clever girl, you want another one?"

She nods with a glance back to the kitchen, even at a young age I knew how spending time with my father could set my mother off. Now I recognize the jealousy as a symptom of her illness, back then I just knew to avoid her when she gave me that look filled with fire.

"I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?" He watched with such pride and amazement that I couldn't help but smile. He was by no means father of the year when he was alive but he did love me, even if it did manifest itself in destructive ways.

He watched as his daughter hopped down and scribbled on a piece of paper on the coffee table. 8yr old Sara Sidle solving puzzles with her dad, it should have been a peaceful memory, a happy memory from my childhood but the tension in the air was evident even in my dream state. I could hear the pots being slammed down and the cupboard doors clattering in the kitchen, a sure sign that my mother was less than appreciative of daddy daughter time.

"It's E!" two sparkling brown eyes looked up with excitement at having solved the puzzle as my mother clouded the doorway ominously. A silent agreement was reached between the two of them. I watched as my father kneeled down and scrawled a short message on a pink slip of paper and slipped it inside my book.

I can remember that night, I remember sliding into my closet as the arguments started, taking my flashlight out and casting it over my copy of 'the velveteen rabbit' where the riddle was stashed.

I do not remember the next part I am privy to I my dreams. I was never subjected to the violence at this age. By now I had learned to hide from it, to retreat from the situation and lose myself in my books. It would be another year or so before I learned to be defiant and found the anger I worked so hard to repress. That would eventually be our downfall of course; even the happy times would disappear.

The thud of a fist against a door snaps me awake. The house is calm and quiet, the gentle breathing of my husband laid beside me in his own blissful sleep. I study his features carefully, wondering what he pictures when he closes his eyes. He looks content, relaxed, and happy almost. It is clearly only me who suffers from tumultuous dreams of a time gone by. I untangle myself from the sheets and shuffle into the living room as quietly as I can manage, I don't want to wake him. He'll only worry unnecessarily and I'm not in the mood to be explaining myself tonight.

My huge bookcase is almost heaving with books, the shelves often creak and bend whenever I return one to its place and yet I can't seem to help expanding my collection whenever anything catches my eye; which it inevitably does.

Scouring the titles quickly I slip the book I'm looking for from its place and glance over the cover carefully. 'The velveteen rabbit' I hadn't opened this book since the day I went into foster care, it represented something I couldn't deal with then. It reminded me of the love I had for my father and while he was gone and I was alone, I simply couldn't face it.

Now though, now I was an adult and I could face anything. At least I thought I could and my dreams apparently did too.

"Everything ok?" his voice rung out across the room enveloping me in its warm embrace like a hug. The concern and confusion in his eyes was endearing. He struggled to deal with my sporadic night terrors; Grissom wasn't a man who suffered nightmares. I was willing to bet his dreams were all a puzzle waiting for him to figure out or about the discovery of some prehistoric bug living in his own garden. He was a simple man after all; my disillusions that he was complex and deep were way off the mark now that I was privy to the man behind the workplace façade I could figure him out easily.

"I'm fine" I begin, not sounding convincing at all as his eyes scanned the book with a frown "I … I had a dream… about this book"

I gently stroked my hand across the cover filled with a sudden nostalgia that almost brought tears to my eyes. Grissom sensed my mood and moved across the room to stand behind me and take in the title with a soft smile.

"I had that book as a child. My dad used to read it to me"

Grissom crouched down to the bottom of the bookcase and slipped out a rather ragged copy of the same book, its ragged yellowing pages curling and cracked with age. As if I needed any more justification that we were meant for each other, how serendipitous that he should just so happen to have the very same book in his prized possessions.

"My father… he gave this to me when I was a kid. I haven't looked at it since…"

I let the words vanish on the wind; I don't like to vocalize them too often. I've spent too long suppressing those memories to bring them up now, even with Grissom. We've been there already, he already knows it all. As I flick through the pages and glance at those familiar illustrations I'm instantly transported back to the long summer days where I would lie in the grass and devour those words like they were coated in chocolate.

"And so time went on and the little rabbit was very happy" I read aloud to the room, the walls, to Grissom, to myself and my tormented dreams "so happy that he never noticed how his beautiful velveteen fur was getting shabbier and shabbier"

"And his tail came unsewn and all the pink rubbed off his nose where the boy had kissed him" Grissom stated without looking at the book pressing a gentle kiss on the end of my nose. His ability to quote literature of all kinds never ceased to amaze me. A pink slip of paper slipped from the open pages of the book and pirouetted its way to the ground like blossom falling from a cherry tree.

I stared at it, a strange fear settling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sure if it was real, the puzzle he had scribbled down in my dream now a physical thing. A real life thing dancing before my eyes, it should have filled me with nostalgia and hope but instead I was terrified of seeing the words on that paper. Grissom got there before me, his sparkling blue eyes drinking in the riddle in its entirety. I couldn't say I wanted him to solve it before me, I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to solve it, the words tangling around his comprehension.

"My dad sent me riddles, it was kinda our thing…" I explained.

"I don't get it!" he declared, clearly struggling to admit he didn't know the solution to a puzzle as he handed the slip of paper to me.

"_Ohduq iurp bhvwhugdb, olyh iru wrgdb, krsh iru wrpruurz, wkh lpsruwdqw wklqs lv qrw wr vwrs txhvwlrqlqj_?" I met his eye with both amusement and sorrow. I was pleased he didn't solve it, it was mine to solve. For my dad. For the little girl I was back then. "I never figured it out… "

* * *

**A/N: anybody solve the riddle yet? ;o)**


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't like me to let a puzzle get the better of me. Sara didn't talk much about her father and I didn't push it, I respected her need to bury certain things and deal with them in her own way. That's what Sara did and she would never claim to be dependent on anyone for support or guidance when it came to fighting with her demons. Deep down she thrived on her alone time, there were times it got to her, times when she would call me at all hours of the night with a darkness in her eyes just so she could hear another voice inside our home. Those times were hard to deal with, when I offered to come home she would shut down, insist that I had responsibilities and duties I couldn't turn my back on. It's funny how I always nodded and agreed when the only duty I felt I really had to honor was the one to my wife.

The airport was heaving today as I searched the departures board for my flight. It was always late; every single time I stood in front of this sign there was a delay of some sort. Sara didn't come to the airport with me anymore, at first we made a point of saying goodbye but it soon became clear that saying goodbye so much was exhausting. This morning when I left I had simply kissed her sleeping forehead and crept away from the house as though I would be back in time for dinner. It was a fantasy of course, I may be a lot closer than I had been recently but New York was still more than a 6 hour flight away. Sara was just pleased I was at least in the same country for a while.

Guest lecturing at Columbia had been a great career choice; I missed the excitement and unpredictability of field work. In Peru I had participated in one of the most notable archaeological digs in recent years but it had been hard going, physically and mentally.

With another 45 minutes to kill I take to wandering aimlessly around the airport. This is now a regular occurrence. I think I know this airport better than my own home by now, my mind goes back to Sara's riddle and the tone of her voice when she confessed to never having solved it. It must have tormented her even more than me but the letters didn't make sense.

The bookstore always held a pull for me, every time I returned from a trip Sara would groan at my new collection of books. She insisted the bookcase at home was about to give way, that one night it would simply collapse into a heap of literature and dust. I've had that bookcase since I was a young man, it would be around longer than I would. Even if it was bursting at the seams and creaking with every new book we added.

I glance over the titles lined up with a sigh. It was hard to know what would capture my interest; the best sellers were normally rather mainstream for me. Either that or I had read them long before they got made into the latest craze for the big screen.

"That's a good one!" a man beside me declares as I read the blurb on the back of 'the Da Vinci code'. I turn around to face my companion, a gentleman around the same age as me with a receding hairline and a nervous smile.

"My wife has read it, I usually avoid the books they make into movies" I declare, placing it back on the shelf and picking up a different book "especially movies with Tom Hanks"

"I see your point!" he says picking up another book and flicking through the pages "I hear this ones the next big thing"

"The hunger games" I read aloud, it's one Sara's had for a number of years. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm sure Greg gave her it one Christmas "haven't read that either. I'm more of an old classic's fan. I avoid mainstream"

"I do too, although I do love a good mystery" he smiled, replacing the book and scanning the spines with the same pointless curiosity I had.

I hear the tannoy announcing my flight is finally boarding and say my goodbyes to my new companion, taking off in the direction of my gate quickly. I like to be seated and comfortable long before takeoff, as a frequent flyer I have learned to appreciate the benefits of sitting near the back of the plane beside the window. It was usually the best place to ensure you didn't get seated beside the obese man who smelled like BO or the stressed mother with an irate baby on her lap. Only people like me made the effort to walk all the way to the back of the plane when there were still empty seats at the front.

The flight is filling up quickly, that's probably why it cost me so much to buy this ticket. I normally plan my visits a few weeks in advance, that way I can be sure Sara has time off and I get a good deal on the airfare. This time I had wanted to surprise her, she had been so low lately. Her nightmares were getting the better of her, she would never admit it but I could see the ghosts in her eyes. Her new supervisor didn't know her history, he didn't know what she'd been through or where she'd come from. She would claim that it was better that way, that he didn't pick and choose the cases she got based on her experiences but every time she saw another kid sent to foster care or another tragic victim of domestic abuse she'd suffer the nightmares again and it was heartbreaking not being able to do anything about it.

"Mind if I sit here?" I look up to see the man from the bookstore smiling down at me. I glance around the cabin to see that most of the other seats are filled already and nod in his direction. I would be lying if I said I wasn't an antisocial flyer. I liked my solitude a lot of the time and I am in the process of re-reading 'of mice and men'.

"John Steinbeck? One of my favorites..." he remarked, gesturing to the book as he stashed his bag "I love how descriptive he is. Every chapter is a delight. The names Dan"

"Gil.." I say simply shaking his hand. And our conversation for the rest of the flight revolved around literary classics, the 6 hour flight vanished before my eyes and soon we were stashing our bags again for landing.

"The velveteen rabbit?" my companion announced with surprise as I slid the book from Sara's dream into my case sheepishly "my mom read that to us as kids…"

"It's… a long story actually…"

His raised eyebrow indicated he was ready to listen so as the plane started its decent into New York I explained all about Sara's riddle.

"It's probably not all that complicated you know" he began, sliding a pen from his breast pocket and hovering over a napkin "let's hear it…"

I will admit to faltering, this was Sara's thing, it was personal to her. I wasn't sure how appropriate it was to be sharing it with a stranger on a plane.

"It's just a random jumble of letters..." I said, realizing I didn't remember or take a note of the riddle before I left.

"There will be a system…try reading it backwards, maybe its in a different language? Have you looked into Cryptology?"

I stared at him bewildered by the words coming from his mouth.

"Puzzles are kinda my thing…" he stated as the plane bumped to a stop.

I didn't say another word to him as we fetched our bags and filtered off the plane. I was pondering the system he was talking about. He was right of course. Riddles and hidden messages all had a system; it was just a case of figuring out the key.

As I disappeared into the throng of people I had a jumble of letters dancing through my head. It couldn't be too hard to figure it out. Only certain letters could appear as doubles or beside each other. If I really thought about it I could work it out.

A book caught my eye in the bookstore. 'Codes Ciphers & Other Cryptic & Clandestine Communication' it was like fate was smiling down on me, guiding me in the right direction. I pawed the book like I had just found the Holy Grail when my companion turned up beside me.

"Don't waste your money, it's all in here" he grinned scribbling in and then passing me a well-worn copy of 'the da Vinci code' "I know you don't like the new ones. Give it a try"

With that he disappeared into the crowds and I flicked through the pages of the book, pausing on the front cover and reading his scribbled message. Another thing that didn't make sense; it was just a symbol scrawled in the middle of the page with a signature on the bottom. I stared at it for a few long moments before turning the book over in my hands and looking after the man in disbelief. I had spent an entire flight discussing how terrible modern literature was with the author of 'the da Vinci code'!

I grabbed a postcard from a rail outside and paid the dollar to the vendor before scribbling on the back and popping it in the post. Hopefully Sara would appreciate the sentiment, I told her about my chance meeting with Mr. Brown and that I had landed safely, scribbling a riddle onto the end for good measure I was sure would put a smile on her face.

"A riddle of riddles, it dances and skips; it is read in the eyes, though it cheats in the lips; if it meets with its match, it is easily caught; bit if money will buy it, it's simply worth nought."


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, which is unusual for me since I usually wake up feeling like death after staring at the ceiling most of the night praying for sleep to come. That's when I realize its dark outside and the hum of traffic is minimal. I turn in a panic to see the numbers on the clock mocking me almost.

I'm late.

I'm never late, I never sleep enough to be late, not when I'm on my own anyway. When Gil is here something happens to me and I could sleep for days on end with him beside me. But he's not beside me right now; I have no excuse for turning into a teenager and missing entire days because I can't get out of bed.

I throw myself out of bed and debate with myself whether I can justify going to work without a shower. I have cleanliness issues, I should know better than to try and argue with myself as I hastily turn the shower to full power and stand under the stream of water, gasping at just how cold it is at first. The ice shower soon heats up and I have the quickest shower I've ever had, barely allowing the soap to run off my body before I wrap it in a towel and throw on some clothes.

I have 25 minutes to get to work and it's at least a 30 minute drive if you don't hit any traffic. With a sigh I knot my hair into a ponytail, not bothering to dry it or even check if it's almost presentable. I curse the genius Idea I had to switch the alarm off while Gil was home, sure time melted away when he was here and every minute was precious but I really thought I would be smarter than to rely on my body clock to behave itself when I needed it most. I switch on the coffee machine and glance out the window at the neon of the city seemingly miles in the distance and decided to call Greg to my rescue.

"I'm running late, will you cover for me. I need maybe 10 minutes?"

"The great Sara Sidle is late? How can this be!"

"Shut up Greg, will you do it or not?" I exaggerate an eye roll for his benefit even although he can't see it.

"Fine. But you owe me one" I could almost feel him smiling through the phone "next time you're getting down and dirty with the hubby…"

I cut him off with a curt thanks and quickly grab my coffee and the pile of mail on my doormat. It's lucky I always keep the car loaded and ready for a case, almost the second I get into the car Greg calls me back with details of our assignment. I've to meet him there, it's closer to home but I'll still have to hurry if I'm to make it on time.

As predicted the traffic is ridiculous. I will never know why so many people choose to drive in a place like Vegas, it is a tourist hub and seems to always be packed with cars and busses and trucks at all hours of the day, every day. If I could get away with it I'd walk everywhere.

Eventually I spy the police lights up ahead and pull up onto the sidewalk. Quite a crowd has assembled already, everyone huddled around trying to catch a glimpse of a body or a whisper of a story. They probably already know more than me. I look on them with a mixture of pity and disgust; I never understood why people felt the need to gawp at another family's misery.

"Male DB, apparently the mother flipped and stabbed him in front of the kids!" Greg explains. I feel like the air has been knocked out of my lungs and the whole world is spinning uncontrollably. "Neighbors called it in and restrained the mother. She's been taken into custody, still screaming apparently…"

He trailed off when he realized I wasn't listening; I had my eyes trained firmly on the little girl huddled beside her big brother. The glassy expression on her face one I was all too familiar with. I could only hope that they had family somewhere, a refuge with people who loved them so they could bury their ghosts properly.

"Sara...? Are you ok?" Greg looked at me with concern as I seemingly stare into space, I could literally feel all the color draining from my body as I tried to take breath and respond to him. His hand reaches out to me and I wonder momentarily whether I was unsteady on my feet. I haven't eaten for a while, coffee can only keep me going so long but I realize he's just offering me reassurance. The gentle touch of his skin against mine snapped me back to reality and all the color seemed to return to the world.

"I'm fine… I'll umm... take the inside?" I'm unsure what I want to volunteer to do, it's bound to stir up some very uncomfortable memories no matter what I do but looking into the haunted eyes of those children might just be too much. The house was an inanimate object, it didn't have feelings or emotions or memories. It couldn't see the torment mirrored in my eyes.

"You don't look so good Sara… I can call someone else…"

I stare at him as the words sink into my brain. This seems to take a while, I feel sluggish, like I'm fighting to move through a current or a thick fog.

"No… I'm fine. Its fine" I'm not sure how convincing I sound. I'm not even sure I believe myself but I step towards the house with a nervous glance at the children on my way.

I am infinitely thankful for the pass of time. This house is nothing like mine was, in fact it is probably about as different as a house could get. This family looked like they were actually happy. Photographs littered the hallway, holidays, get together's, awards and school photo's. The fridge was covered in drawings and test papers with bright red A's and B's circled at the top. Even the copper smell I expected in the air is masked by plug in air fresheners at strategic points around the house and the massive bowl of pot pourri on the table.

No, nothing about this house is familiar and that's good because I know that if a single spark of recognition hit me I wouldn't be able to suppress the nightmares for months. We process the scene quickly; it's pretty self-explanatory what happened. Even without the mother's testimony.

"You ok?" Greg asks softly as we emerge into the fresh night air. The police cars and crowds long since vanished. I nod and slide into the car, Greg having bummed a lift with Brass wrestles with my pile of unread mail and newspapers as he gets into the passenger seat.

Greg doesn't know about my father, I didn't tell anyone but Gil. Even when he offered me a listening ear and a never ending supply of alcohol I managed to keep it to myself. He didn't ask me about my family; somehow he knew it was a taboo subject with me. Somehow he knew not to bring it up and while we never discussed it I was extremely thankful for his non-judgmental and unwavering support. I often wished I could thank him for it, but then he didn't know he was doing it, his loyalty came naturally to him.

"Ooo what's this?" he grins brandishing a postcard with the statue of liberty on the front. I try to grab it from his hands before he devours the contents but it is useless. A combination of trying to drive in the almost suffocating darkness and Greg's ability to presume traits similar to an octopus meaning he whisks the card far from my reach easily.

"Oh Grissom's hobnobbing with celebrities in New York is he?" he beams at me as I frown in his direction, knowing I have no idea what he's talking about. When we stop at traffic lights I snatch it from his hands while he's staring at it with a rather confused expression. "He's clearly lost it Sara…. The pollution in New York must be rotting his brain cells"

He's referring to the riddle of course, it brings a smile to my face that I can't suppress and Greg rolls his eyes in disgust. It might not be romantic to a mere observer but to me it means the world.

"it's a riddle" I smile "its… a long story"

"ok… lets have it then" he grins, snatching the card back out of my hands as the lights switch to green and I drive off. He stares at it for the longest time, I begin to wonder if he's fallen asleep until he starts muttering to himself.

"It's 'the heart' …" I whisper, barely audible as Greg starts turning the stereo up and shakes his head.

"You guys are weird"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am sorry this is so short and so late – I had flu and couldn't bear to look at a computer for over a week! For me that is a BIG deal! ANYWAY this is a short one but I I'll try and flex my creative muscles and make the next one a good'un to make up for it. I have Otie1983 to thank for this – as always – I owe her a multitude of thank you's even if it is for threatening to drag me naked through the streets LOL! also I didnt get a chance to thank you all for your review's but I really do appreciate every word! Happy reading – and riddling! Charli xx**

I'm loitering around in the break room avoiding the interview with the kids when Archie finds me. He'd been given the dad's laptop to work on and apparently it didn't take him long to find something. This is good for me, it means that if Greg comes looking for me after the interview I'll be busy and he's less likely to ask me for help. I use the time to read over the case file. This case got under my skin, for obvious reasons and for not so obvious ones.

There was no denying there were strong similarities between this case and my own childhood but there was something else in the little girl's eyes. She almost begged me to understand something I couldn't quite grasp. So I poured over the files again and again until I almost felt like a fully installed member of the family but I couldn't find what it was. There was nothing to suggest any discrepancies in the family, nothing to say the mother was justified in her actions at all. Nothing to explain the ghostly look I the little girl's eyes.

Archie stands in the doorway, tearing my attention from the evidence log I'm scrutinizing. He blocks out the light casting an ominous shadow over me.

"I found an Easter egg in the dad's computer files…" he tells me with a stony expression.

"An Easter egg?" I ask, I've heard of them before of course but normally in computer games and programs. "It's unusual for a civilian to be placing hidden files in his computer…"

"Yeah. Well he had his reasons…." Archie declares somewhat ominously as he leads me into his darkened little AV room and proceeds to explain the entire process of planting an Easter egg. I began phasing it out sometime after he started waxing lyrical about the Atari. I was much more interested in what kind of images the dad felt needed to be hidden. A heaviness built up in my chest and I came to the realization that I knew exactly what kind of image a father would need to hide.

My fears were realized as a series of images flooded the screen when Archie clicked on a teddy bear in the corner of the screen. He had been sexually abusing his daughter, over and over by the look of the images. I was willing to bet the mother had found out and took justice into her own hands. I can't say I blamed her, I felt anger taking over my own body and I had no emotional attachment to this girl at all.

Yet the dad would never have to pay for his crimes now, the little girl would, her brother and her mother would. But he wouldn't. In a way, he got off easy. Sadness and anger coursed through my blood stream at the injustice of it all.

"Don't you need to have some kind of programming knowledge to be able to do that?" I ask. "The dad didn't have any formal training, he was a laborer – he had no need to use computers day to day"

"Not really, its pretty simple." he says pulling up a series of menus "I could talk you through it?"

So I slip into the chair beside him and Archie spends almost an hour explaining the ins and outs of planting an Easter egg to me. The jargon I could just about keep up with but it seemed a lot more complicated than I thought. I'm not computer illiterate, or at least I didn't think I was but by the time I finally trudge out of the AV room and find Greg my head is literally thumping.

"Did you get anywhere with the kids?" I ask him, massaging my temple in an attempt to dispel the tension building up.

"Not really, they wouldn't talk. Family services shut us down when the little girl got upset" Greg threw himself down on a chair with an apple and watched me with well-practiced scrutiny. "What'd you get?"

"The dad was abusing the kid. Archie found hidden files in his computer" I sigh as I take the seat across from him.

"Well there's your motive…you know I once asked a girl out with a hidden message in an email"

"That's really dorky Greg…" I tease with an eye roll.

"Yeah well… She liked it" he winked. Greg's ability to make the geekiest things look cool would never cease to amaze me but his hidden message gave me a brilliant idea.

"How would you send a hidden message in an email then?" I venture, knowing Greg will be able to explain it in much simpler terms than Archie.

"Depends what you want to hide…" he grinned with a wink. Greg and hi innuendo's were ridiculous. He could turn the most innocent thing into filth with a single look.

"Let's just say I wanted to hide a message in a photograph…" I answer cryptically hoping he will drop the subject and stop the flush currently working its way across my face. It didn't work, his expression told me he was already contemplating boudoir photographs but he didn't say anything about it. Instead he talked me though the process and I muttered my goodbyes and hurried home.

I had a vague grasp on Easter eggs as I perched in front of the computer intending to send Grissom a message and then suddenly I have forgotten everything both Archie and Greg told me. Luckily, I have long held the belief that Google knows everything and after what felt like hours trawling the internet I am ready to compose my message.

I wonder briefly if Grissom will understand it. I can picture the expression on his face when he gets his riddle accompanied by a photograph. Mixture of bewilderment and excitement, Grissom liked having a puzzle he could sink his teeth into.

_A mile from end to end, yet as close to as a friend. A precious commodity, freely given. Seen on the dead and on the living. Found on the rich, poor, short and tall, but shared among children most of all. What is it?_

I attach an image to the message, an old one of us smiling into the camera lens in front of the golden gate bridge. It holds so many precious memories for me, I can't remember if I've ever told him how much our time together means to me, how carefully I cherish every second we're together.

What he will have to figure out is how to activate my Easter egg to find my real message. I will obviously guide him in the right direction; I can't claim my husband is any more of a technology wizard than I am. In fact, rather than turning Grissom towards technology his travels seemed to be turning him away from it. It took all my powers of persuasion to convince him to Skype… but then I could be very persuasive.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I did struggle with this a bit and then I was reading 'Dearest Gil' (again) and I cried (again) and my faith in GSR was restored. then this here outpouring of emotion happened - I hope you all like it! as always reviews are loved :)**

**Charli x**

* * *

It had been an incredibly long day and I was tired to the very root of my soul as I trudged to my apartment surrounded by drunks and theatre goers. How I missed the darkness and fireflies in the jungle.

All I wanted was to collapse into bed, to rest my weary bones and let my dreams take over. My cell phone had other ideas, almost the second I closed the door I was assaulted by the metallic chime. Sara had been very insistent I carried it. Her arguments had been steadfast and unwavering, as they often were.

"Grissom?" I answered curtly, wondering briefly why I still used my surname as opposed to hello.

"You sound tired" her voice sounded into the receiver instantly bringing a smile to my face.

It always made me nostalgic to hear her voice, I could picture her curled up on the sofa at home, with a book nestled on her lap as she spoke. In moments like this I realized how much I missed her, I missed her smile, the sound of her voice in the morning when it was still gravelly and rested the touch of her skin. I missed it all.

"I am. It's been a long day…" I sigh, leaning back on my armchair and stretching my legs out ahead of me. "How's your day been?"

"I'm just getting started, an hour till I have to go to work" it makes me feel strangely sad that our lives have become so separate. At least in Peru we shared similar sleep patterns, now I was heading to bed just as she was waking up. "I miss you…" she added in a quiet voice, somehow sensing my melancholy.

"I know, I miss you too" I reply, she doesn't know how painfully true that is.

The silence between us reminds me of all the times we shared silent conversations in the lab, it was a lot easier to convey hidden meaning with eye contact.

"So, have you checked your email yet?" she asked, clearing her throat nervously.

"No. I was going to wait till morning" I yawn, detecting a hint of disappointment in her breathing "why?"

I'm not generally a suspicious man but I know when my wife is up to something. I could almost feel her smiling through the phone.

"I… may… have sent you a little riddle…" she teased, the words playfully rolling off her tongue.

"A riddle?" I sigh "I'm not sure I'm conscious enough to be riddling right now"

"Trust me. You'll like this one. I better go get my shower…."

"Goodnight" I almost whisper, my heart aching for her even more "Sara…"

"Yes?"

"I love you. I'll be home soon." I'm not sure who I am reassuring more.

"I know. I love you too. I'll call you in the morning"

When she hung up I sat in the chair for long time thinking about her. I pictured her doing those day to day things I was so familiar with. The little things I missed more than anything. The way the steam in the shower would escape through the door and fill the house with her glorious fresh scent, the way she would wrap her towel around her frame to find clothes that she didn't have to iron. The way her feet padded quietly though the thick carpets as she moved around the bedroom, daintily placing one of her necklaces around her neck. I could picture every move she would make as though it were happening right in front of me but it didn't make the separation any easier. If anything it made it a lot worse.

With a sigh I moved across to my laptop perched on the desk by the window. She seemed to be very keen for me to read my emails. I was curious as to why.

'_A mile from end to end, yet as close to as a friend.  
A precious commodity, freely given. Seen on the dead and on the living.  
Found on the rich, poor, short and tall,  
but shared among children most of all. What is it?'_

I stare at the email in bewilderment. That's what she made me stay out of bed for; this riddle is what was so important? The attachment blinked in the corner and I clicked on it, still trying to fathom what was so important to her that she couldn't wait for tomorrow.

There we were, smiling and happy in front of the famous golden gate bridge. I would give anything to go back to that time, to have it all over again. I would do so many things differently; I would take so many more chances.

Now I was at a loss, the photograph was a nice gesture and a beautiful memory but it couldn't be what she was so interested in me seeing. There had to be more to it. My eyes scanned the title of the photograph 'follow the riddle'

She was giving me a headache. I kneaded the bridge of my nose and cast my eyes over the riddle again. It wasn't a tricky one, the answer was easy to find; a smile. In that instant I had an epiphany and pulled up the photograph again, clicking on her smile pulled up a hidden message and I considered myself victorious.

"_Dear Gil, _

_It has been a while since I reminded you how much you mean to me. There may be miles between us but you are still in my heart every single day, you still course through my bloodstream, your memory still makes me smile. I long to feel your arms around me, to taste your lips and look into your eyes and every single moment we are apart aches in my soul. I once thought that being so dependent on another person was something to be ashamed of, that showing that level of vulnerability was bound to end in heartache but I trust you with every fiber of my being and I know that we were meant to be together. I just wanted you to know that even although we are not side by side I am always with you; I am always thinking of you, I always love you._

_Hurry home,_

_Sara.x"_

Now it became clear why she was so restless about it. She had bared her soul in her hidden message and the words were beautiful. I felt a lump in my throat as I thought of her composing this, on her own in our quiet little townhouse. I wondered if the ticking clock in the study offered her comfort or reminded her of the passage of time, I wondered if the flames flickering in the living room fire still enchanted her on the cold nights.

Before I composed my reply I felt compelled to check one thing, I suddenly felt like I owed her my presence. It didn't matter how many times we said goodbye it still hurt just as much, it didn't matter how many time I justified the 7 hour flight as opposed to the 16 hour flight or argued that the 3 hour time difference didn't matter. I missed her as much as she missed me and in that moment it seemed ridiculous for us to put so much space between us.

I had been offered a teaching position at UNLV a month ago. The email had been read and stashed in a folder for me to look at later and then all but forgotten. I don't know why I had forgotten about it, my heart had turned somersaults as I pictured her reaction to the news. My lack of response may seem to the university that I was considering turning it down, the truth was life had gotten in the way. Finals week had come and gone, I had spent a glorious vacation in the arms of my wife. The last thing on my mind was starting a new job; I was yet to make a decision about my future in New York. I didn't fit in here, I was happiest watching bugs and counting stars, the number of skyscrapers in this ton and I was surprised I couldn't reach out and touch them yet.

I decided not to email her back at all. Simply sent her a text message to remind her I loved her and was always thinking of her as I pulled out my copy of the velveteen rabbit and got to work on a special message of my own. This would be more complicated but I couldn't wait to hear her reaction to what it had to say.


End file.
